


Sweet Mother, I Cannot Lift

by CrunchyWrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (Or attempts at gym flirting), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beau is a useless lesbian, F/F, Gym Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 10:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18658957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites
Summary: There's a new girl at Beau's gym.





	Sweet Mother, I Cannot Lift

There’s a new girl at Beau’s gym.

Now, this isn’t an uncommon occurrence. There’re new girls all the time and especially around January, when the host of New Year Resolution-ers swarm the gym to definitely fulfill that resolution of going to the gym several times a week for _real_ this time, and no, they’re _not_ going to give up after two days and go back to their cushy lie-ins. Until, of course, they do, which normally happens within the first two weeks of the year. But this new girl, unlike so many others, turned up randomly in the middle of May, which makes Beau think that this _isn’t_ just a new years resolution.

She’s also jacked as shit, knows her way around every machine, and wastes no time in getting to work, all the while looking like the bounciest, peppiest person that Beau has ever encountered. She’s almost ridiculously colourful, all dressed up like she’s in one of those 80’s aerobatics videos. You know, with the neon leotards and vibrant sweatbands and the kinda manic grins that make everyone in them look like they’re maybe two seconds away from snapping and going on the worlds bounciest killing spree? Yeah. _Those_ aerobatics videos. Except that, on this girl, it doesn’t look stupid. This girl actually manages to pull it off, and it’s driving Beau absolutely fucking _mad_. Everything she wears is so bright that Beau feels it should be classified as an eye health hazard, and none of it should really go together as well as it does, and it shows off her curves _and_ her almost obnoxiously impressive muscles at the same time and _fuck_ , Gods, shit fucking damn it, but if Beau wasn’t gay already then she absolutely would be for this girl. She cute, like, literally all of the time, and when she’s not cute, she’s hot. She ridiculously hot – she’s so hot that the first time Beau laid eyes on her she had to check that she was actually properly hydrated because, _wow_ , but the room suddenly felt, like, 50 degrees warmer.

Although, that could just be because the new girl is a tiefling. And from what Caleb’s mentioned off-hand about his own boyfriend, tieflings tend to run warmer than humans. It would certainly explain why Beau had flushed red all over the first time the new girl had accidentally knocked into her over by the water fountain. She’d apologised, in this super sweet and cute accent, and Beau had stammered her way through what was _meant_ to be a totally suave response but had actually come out closer to ‘ _nyghrfle’¸_ and then she’d hid in the bathroom for ten minutes to get her breathing under control. It’s stupid. It’s impossible. No one should look that goddamn good with blue skin, teeny tiny, curly horns, and an outfit that looks like it’s been stolen from the unholy lovechild of a fancy-ass fashion show and a vintage sport-wear shop. But New Girl does, and Beau doesn’t know what to do about it, and honestly she feels like New Girl has the power to turn any woman, regardless of orientation, into a lesbian within seconds, because how the fuck could you look at her and _not_ immediately feel draped in rainbows and overcome with attraction?

Thankfully, Beau is _already_ gay as all hell, so she doesn’t need to change much there. Unfortunately, she is also a _useless_ gay – or, as Caleb likes to call it, a ‘disaster lesbian’ – and much as she may object to that title, she knows that it’s kind of true. She’s got one-night stands down to a fine art, but anything beyond that is woefully outside of her area of expertise. Sleeping with hot girls after pulling them at a club? Yeah, sure, she can do that. Making out with cute girls at a party? Not a problem. Generally having a good time with the hot and attractive ladies? Fuck, put it on her resume. She’s the _master_ of sneaky bathroom stall sex. She’s a pro. An expert. She’s pretty goddamn hot and she _knows_ it, and other girls know it, and she’s never had a problem getting laid.

Except, Beau realises with growing dread, she doesn’t think she wants to sleep with New Girl. Like, she _does,_ of course, because New Girl is hot and Beau is weak and also, in case it needs repeating again, _gay as hell_ ¸ but as the days go on and New Girl continues to be horrifically attractive in Beau’s general direction, Beau starts to realise that she might want more.

She starts to realise that she might want to _date_ this girl.

Which, really, is where the problem lies, because Beau has _no idea_ how to date anyone. She’s seen movies, and she’s not a moron, but the actual details of it, like the whole approaching them and being all cool and getting their number and shit? Yeah, no. That’s impossible. It can’t be done. It definitely can’t be done by Beau, who has been told repeatedly by Caleb that she has the social skills of a teaspoon, which is admittedly pretty rich coming from the guy who has the social skills of a cat, but that also just makes it worse. If _Caleb_ thinks that her social skills are lacking then they must be really, _really_ shit.

Which means, tragically, that Beau has come to accept that she will never be able to ask New Girl out, no matter how many WikiHow articles she reads.

It’s somewhere in the second month of New Girl visiting the gym, though, that things change. And, like so many things in Beau’s life, things change because of Dairon.

It’s a pretty standard day, all things considered. She’d done her typically daily work-out, politely dialling herself back from ogling New Girl 100% of the time to something closer to 70% of the time, and then she’d met up with Dairon to work on sparring technique. At least, _Dairon_ likes to call it ‘working on sparring technique.’ Beau likes to call it ‘getting the absolute shit beat out of me but feeling kind of like a badass the whole time so it’s worth it, and also the bruises I get from this are pretty sick, man I hope New Girl sees how incredibly awesome I look while fighting, that’s right, I’m actually trained in martial arts, I’m super cool I promise, oh my gods please just ask me on a date or maybe just push me against a wall in the locker room and make out with me, either’s good, I’m dying over here.’

So, yeah. Pretty standard. It’s a standard day, full of standard gym activities and standard sparing, and Beau feels like the sparring is going pretty well. She’s not getting quite as many blows in as she normally does and Dairon cuffs her round the head more than a few times, but New Girl is working out super close by so honestly, it feels worth it. Beau can totally watch New Girl stretching from the corner of her eye while sparring without losing concentration. Totally. No problem. She can definitely perfectly avoid every single one of Dairon’s strikes as New Girls walks over to the weights and starts loading them up. She can absolutely, definitely, _undoubtedly_ win a sparring match against her terrifyingly competent coach _and_ watch New Girl at the same time. She’s _so_ on her game. Her game is the best it’s ever been.

Dairon’s fist disagrees, though, and it disagrees very loudly by thudding into Beau’s side.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Beau wheezes, finally dragging her attention away from New Girl. “I- _fuck_ , Dairon! That hurt!”

Dairon seems unconvinced. “It was an obvious swing,” she counters. “You could have blocked it easily. You’ve blocked and avoided much harder blows in the past.”

“Well, yeah, but I was-” _Distracted by thinking about how much I want New Girl to step on me_. “-tired,” Beau finishes lamely.

Dairon just gives her a Look. It’s a very powerful Look. It absolutely deserves the capital letter.

Beau glowers. “I _was_.”

Dairon gives a soft sigh. “Beau,” she says, dropping her fists and settling into a more relaxed stance. “You know that you need to focus entirely on the combat at hand in order to succeed. Is there something on your mind right now?”

 _Yes_. “No.”

Dairon raises an eyebrow. Given that the eyebrow accounts for 50% of the hair on her head, it’s an incredibly judgemental eyebrow. Somehow, the eyebrow is even worse than the Look. “ _Beau_.”

“What?” Beau asks defensively. She steps back, crossing her arms over her chest, and totally _doesn’t_ notice how New Girl is casually loading up _even more weights_. “I’m- I’m here, I’m in the moment, I’m totally ready to spar, Dairon. I’m paying loads of attention.” Behind Dairon, New Girl brushes a single lock of sweaty blue hair out of her face. “So much attention.” New Girl glances up, meeting Beau’s gaze, and gives her a sweet, cheeky smile. Beau swallows. “ _Nygh_ ,” she says, and then proceeds to stare like a cat mesmerised by a laser pointer as New Girl rubs her hands together, gets into place, and starts to lift.

Beau’s done some weights, of course – how else is she meant to maintain her super sick guns? – but this is- it’s- _fuck_. Beau feels her mouth grow dry. She’s pretty certain that New Girl (and fuck, but she needs to give her a better name than _New Girl_ ) is just casually benchpressing as much as she weighs. Which, yeah, admittedly isn’t a _lot_ , because Beau’s kind of on the short and scrawny side and always has been, but New Girl is still doing it like it means _nothing_.

 _Fuck_ , Beau thinks. _I want her to demolish me_.

And that the last thing that she thinks before Dairon’s fist comes flying at her like a bullet and strikes her right in the gut.

Beau stumbles backward, wheezing. “ _Fuck_ ,” she gasps, looking up at Dairon with an affronted expression. “Dude, what the _fuck?_ ”

Dairon shrugs. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

“Could that ‘somehow’ maybe have involved _not punching me_?”

“I tried saying your name but you weren’t paying attention,” Dairon retorts. “I felt that this would be a more efficient approach.”

Beau wheezes again, just for good measure, and then straightens up, trying not to wince at the ache in her stomach as she does so. She can’t just let Dairon know that the punch actually _hurt_. That would be admitting defeat, and right now there could be a cute girl watching. Beau can’t just look weedy when there might possibly be a cute girl watching. She’s gonna be strong, and tough, and look so incredibly badass that New Girl won’t be able to resist falling for her, and then New Girl will be the one to ask her out, and Beau will be able to go home and Google ‘ _what to do on a date with a super hot girl who I want to bang but also actually do mushy shit with_ ,’ and it’ll all be _fine_.

Dairon’s expression suggests otherwise. Dairon’s expression suggests that she’s less than impressed with Beau’s current state of attention, but Beau strongly suspects that that might be because Dairon hasn’t actually paid any attention to New Girl yet. Dairon hasn’t seen New Girl brushing her hair back from her face. Dairon hasn’t seen how New Girl’s shirt clings to her curves. Dairon hasn’t seen New Girl’s _freckles_.

Dairon hasn’t seen New Girl complete leg day without even wincing, just as chipper and cheerful as always even while doing exercises that would make Beau’s legs burn, and gods, _fuck_ , but Beau’s pretty certain that New Girl could crush a watermelon between her thighs, and she’s so goddamn fucking _gay_ that she literally doesn’t know what to _do_. Every time she thinks about that she can _feel_ herself bluescreen, like she’s a computer that’s hit a massive error, and the massive error is ‘literally too gay to function’.

Beau peeks over Dairon’s shoulder. New Girl pushes up, lifting the weights up steadily as some half-orc who Beau thinks is her friend keeps an eye on it. _Not like she needs a spotter_ , Beau’s brain supplies. _Look at her. Look at those biceps. Look at those **arms**. _New Girl holds the weights for a moment, her muscles visibly bulging, and Beau feels something in her brain go ‘ _ngyrfl’_.

If Dairon weren’t there, Beau feels that she would have _whimpered_.

As it turns out, though, she might have whimpered anyway. Dairon’s expression changes into one of mingled surprise and confusion, her mouth pulling to one side as if she can’t quite figure out what to feel in response to the sound that Beau just made. Beau resolutely doesn’t look at her. After all, she figures, if she just pretends like this never happened then maybe the situation will eventually go away. That’s how things like this work. She’s sure of it. And it seems like it works, because after not too long Dairon shakes her head and then turns around. There’re a few moments of silence as she watches Jester lift – because she _knows_ Beau, the bastard, and that means that she knows Beau’s type – and then she turns back around, an unreadable expression on her face. For Beau, who’s got a really fucking good knack for reading people’s faces, this sudden blankness is simultaneously annoying and really, really unsettling.

“Oh,” Dairon says. “Oh, _Beauregard_.”

Beau tightens up defensively. “What?”

“I think I see why you’ve been so distracted these last few sessions.”

“I don’t- I’m- I’m not distracted, I’m-”

“ _Beauregard_.”

Beau falls silent. Dairon sighs and then, in a totally unexpected gesture, reaches out and gently claps Beau on the shoulder.

“Go talk to her,” she says, her voice far softer than Beau would have expected.

Beau blinks. “Go- what?”

“Go talk to her.”

Beau narrows her eyes. This seems suspicious. She knows Dairon, and she knows where Dairon’s priorities lie, and she knows that they definitely don’t lie along the path of _help my student ask out a hot girl_. Dairon’s priorities lie closer to ‘teach Beau how to punch super fucking well,’ and ‘teach Beau how to keep a cool head,’ and ‘generally remind Beau that not everyone is as strong as she is and that giving people (namely, Caleb, who is the weediest man that Beau has ever met) ‘friendly’ punches on the arm can actually leave bruises for several days.’

That’s where Dairon’s priorities lie, which means that this is more than a little bit _incredibly suspicious_.

Beau goes to cross her arms and then stops when she realises that they’re already crossed. “Why?” she asks. “You literally just told me that I have to ignore any distractions while sparring. You literally just told me that, right now.”

“Sometimes,” Dairon says, “it is better to remove a distraction than overcome it.”

Beau snorts. “You sound like a fortune cookie,” she mutters.

“ _Beauregard_.”

“What? You do.”

Dairon sighs the long-suffering sigh of anyone who’s had to put up with Beau’s particular brand of Beau-ishness for longer than five minutes. Beau knows that the limit is five minutes, too. Caleb timed it one time. He made a _spreadsheet_.

“Beauregard,” Dairon mutters. She lifts a hand, pressing it against her forehead, and then glances back over her shoulder before looking back at Beau. “Look,” she says. “You can either go and talk to this girl and get this over and done with, or you can keep on being distracted and I will keep on punching you. The choice is yours. But I _will_ mention that this girl is currently refilling her water bottle, so if you wanted to go and talk to her now would be an ideal time to do it.”

 _Shit_. “Is she?” Beau asks, unable to keep the sudden excitement out of her voice. The one and only time she’d spoken to New Girl in the past had happened at the water fountain. New Girl had bumped into her, and Beau had sprayed water everywhere, and New Girl had said ‘ohmygosh, I’m so sorry!’ and it had been _magical_. Even now, Beau still treasures that memory.

Of course, Dairon doesn’t know that, but then again Beau wouldn’t be surprised if she _did_. Dairon is terrifyingly good at apparently reading Beau’s mind, and she seems to be on top form today because she only gives Beau a brief glance before rolling her eyes, stooping down to grab Beau’s bottle, push it into her hands, and then shove her forwards. “ _Yes_ ,” she says emphatically, “so I suggest, Beauregard, that you take this half-empty water bottle, and go to the fountain, and maybe try to initiate conversation.”

“Uh-huh,” Beau says. She moves to step forwards and then pauses. “Do you… do… do I look alright?”

Dairon frowns. “Pardon?”

“Do I _look_ alright?” Beau repeats. “Like, do I look hot? Do I look, y’know, like all cool and shit?”

“You look like you’ve just spent an hour fighting,” Dairon replies flatly. “You’re sweaty, and you’re wearing entirely normal gym gear, and there’s still a bruise on your arm from where you bumped into the wall last week.” She pauses, and then adds, “although, I suppose it could look a bit like a well-earned battle wound. If people are into that.”

Beau blinks. Coming from Dairon, everything that she just said was- well, it wasn’t _high praise_ , but roughly translated into normal-person-speak, it came to something along the lines of ‘yeah, you look absolutely fine.’

“Alright,” she says. “I- thanks, Dairon.”

“Of course.”

“I’m gonna- I’m going to-…”

Dairon nods. “Off you go,” she says. “And remember to use your words. Be confident.”

“I’m always confident,” Beau mutters to herself, and then she looks up, squares her shoulders, and, with a confidence that she in no way feels, approaches the water fountain. _I’ve got this_ , she thinks to herself. _I’ve faced down way worse than this. I spar with Dairon pretty much every goddamn day. I’ve had to help Caleb give Frumpkin a bath. I watched Nott peel and eat a lemon like it was a fucking orange. This is totally, absolutely, entirely fine_.

Ahead of her New Girl leans casually against the wall, watching her water bottle slowly fill. In the shitty light of the gym, which somehow makes every selfie look like absolute garbage, she looks _radiant_. She looks _ethereal_. She looks like- like- like some _really fucking expensive art_ , or something like that. Like, the kind that you can only look at for thirty seconds, in case the weight of too many eyeballs staring at it ruins the glaze or some shit likes that. Beau doesn’t know. She doesn’t know art. She just knows a hot girl when she sees one, and she’s seeing one right now.

She’s _approaching_ one right now.

She’s approaching one, and she’s walking up the weird little steps out of the recessed area where she and Dairon try to punch each other to hell and back, and she’s crossing the distance to the water fountain, and _oh my gods, shit, fuck_ , New Girl is looking up at her. New Girl meets her gaze, giving her a smile so fucking bright and cheerful that Beau thinks she might literally go blind from it, and then she opens her mouth and, in a voice like a chorus of angels on a sugar-high, speaks.

“Hi!” she says.

It’s one word. It’s one tiny, entirely casual word. It’s one word that people say to each other every single goddamn day, and it doesn’t mean anything, and Beau _knows_ that New Girl is probably just saying it because the sunshine-iest, bubbliest, friendliest person that Beau has ever seen, but all the same, Beau thinks she feels her knees grow weak.

She swallows. “Ngh,” she manages to say, and instantly shuts her eyes, just for a moment. _Gods, that was fuckin’ disgraceful._ “I- hi,” she tries again. She thinks she managed to say words this time. They _felt_ like words. “You’re- hello.”

New Girl smiles wider. “I’ve seen you around before, haven’t I?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Beau replies, while her brain lights up ecstatically. “I- uh-huh. And I’ve seen you- you’re- I’ve seen you around, too. At the weights.” _Lifting my bodyweight_. “You look… strong.”

Gods, _fuck_ , what _is this_? Is this what she’s actually saying? Is she actually trying to hit on New Girl by telling her that she looks _strong_. _Gods_. Beau wants the ground to swallow her. She wants Dairon to punch her so hard she passes out and doesn’t have to deal with this situation. She wants to find a nice, dark corner to crawl into so that she can mope in a puddle of gayness and picture a future where she _didn’t_ fuck up the simple act of speaking and instead managed to actually ask New Girl out.

New Girl, oblivious to the turmoil going on in Beau’s head, just laughs. It’s the prettiest thing that Beau has ever heard.

“Thank you!” she says. “I work out with my friend, Fjord, but it’s not _nearly_ as bad-ass as what you do. You’re normally fighting, aren’t you? It looks really cool!”

“Uh-huh,” Beau says, trying to maintain her incredibly suave exterior while turning into absolute _goo_ on the inside. _New Girl’s seen me sparring. New Girl thinks it’s cool_! “It’s, uh, I do- I do MMA? Like, y’know, mixed martial arts?” She doesn’t know why she’s phrasing it like a question, but New Girl doesn’t seem to care. She somehow grins even wider, practically bouncing in place as she nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” she says. “It looks _so cool_! You look super-fast and awesome, like you’re a superhero or something. It’s really cool.”

“You- yeah?” Gods, Beau didn’t think she was able to get gayer, and yet here she is. You really do learn something new every day. “You’ve, uh, you’ve been watching? Watching me? Spar?”

“Well _duh_ ,” New Girl says, rolling her eyes. It’s the most attractive eyeroll that Beau has ever seen. “You look, like, really cool, and it’s really fun to watch between sets, you know? You’re all like _pow! Pow! Pow!_ And sometimes you do those- those spinny-kicks, which are _super_ awesome!”

Gods above, Beau’s gonna fucking _die_. She’s going to die right here and now because a super hot, super cute, super _every single one of Beau’s fantasies and dreams rolled into one_ girl is standing before her, smiling like the fucking sun and telling her that she thinks Beau looks _cool_. That she thinks Beau looks _awesome_. That’s she’s watched Beau spar while Beau has been watching her weight lift, and that she’s _kept on watching_.

Beau thinks she might actually pass out. Her vision seems fine but her hearing is definitely going a little funny, because all she can hear is the pounding of her heart and the sound of New Girl’s voice as she keeps talking about- about-… fuck, but Beau doesn’t know. She just knows that New Girl sounds incredible, and that she will happily keep listening to her until her heart gives up out of sheer lesbian-ism and she perishes on the spot.

She can see her gravestone already: _Here lies Beauregard: literally too gay to function_.

Suddenly, New Girl speaks again, snapping Beau out of her death-by-gay induced state. “Oh!” New Girl says excitedly. She gives a little bounce, grinning the prettiest fucking grin that Beau has ever seen, and then holds out her hand. “I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Jester! What’s your name?”

For the first time in her life, Beau thanks her parents for her upbringing. For the first time ever she thanks them for instilling etiquette into her every second of every goddamn day, because it means that when New Girl – _Jester_ – holds her hand out, Beau takes it entirely automatically as her brain paints ‘beau & jester’ in a little heart on the notebook of her mind.

 _Come on_ , she thinks to herself, _you’ve got this. You know your own name_.

“Uhhh,” she says. _For fuck’s sake_. “I’m, uh, Beau. Beauregard. But, I mean, most people call me Beau. You can- you can call me Beau. If you like. That would be, uh, that would be… that would be cool. But only if you want to. Call me that. Beau. Which is my name.”

 _Nailed it_.

Jester certainly seems to think so. She gives a little giggle, making Beau’s heart just about goddamn _implode_ , and shakes Beau’s hand all nice and polite. “Okay,” she says with a little laugh, still shaking Beau’s hand, “I _suppose_ I can call you Beau.”

“I, uh-”

“Which is a really cool name, by the way! It’s very pretty.”

 _Not now, heart_ , Beau thinks desperately. _Please don’t give up on me now_. “Y-yeah?” she manages, as Jester finally lets go of her hand. “You, uh- Jester is really pretty, too. Um. The name. But also- it’s a really pretty name.” _Not half as pretty as you are, though_.

Jester laughs again, and Beau feels her legs turn to goo. “Thank you!” she says. She reaches out to one side, picking up her water bottle from the fountain, and fiddles with the lid a little as she glances back up at Beau. “So, this was a really nice little chat.”

“It- yeah, it- it was.”

“I have to get back to my sets, but, if you want, you’re totally welcome to come say hi to me whenever!” Jester says, smiling. Somehow, the mention that she has to go doesn’t feel like a rejection.

Beau nods. “I- yeah, yeah, sure, I’ll… I’ll do that. And you can- you can totally say hi to me. Whenever. It- not even in here, you know? Like, out in the street or whatever. That’s cool too.”

Jester giggles. “You’re funny,” she says, successfully ending Beau’s life once and for all. “We should talk again sometime! It was nice meeting you, Beau!” she continues, and then she turns and skips – _literally fuckin’ skips_ – back to her waiting half-orc friend, who says something that makes her laugh.

After a couple of minutes Beau picks her jaw up off the floor, and then promptly drops it again when Jester glances over her shoulder, gives her a wink, and then starts doing some casual stretches that make every single curve of her body somehow look _even hotter_ than they did before.

Beau’s going to fucking pass out.

“…Shit,” she says to herself. She turns on trembling legs, turning the sound of her name on Jester’s lips over and over in her head, and, more than a little bit dazed by the entire interaction, returns to Dairon.

“So,” Dairon asks, not even looking up as Beau collapses onto the bench next to her. “How did it go?”

“Nyegh,” Beau manages to say. “It- yup.”

“Did you get her number?”

“…”

“…Beau?”

“…Nope.”

“Did you at least talk to her? Using actual words that people actually use?”

She did manage to do that. Somehow, she actually managed to do that. “Yeah.”

“Using more than just one word?”

“Yeah.”

Dairon hums. “Hmm. I suppose it’s a step in the right direction.”

Beau glares at her. Sadly, the glare is entirely ineffective, as Dairon is still fiddling with her handwraps, carefully readjusting them as if she hadn’t put them on exactly perfectly the first time round, like she was the Monet of handwraps. Or something like that. Beau still doesn’t know jack shit about art, and she’s fine to leave it at that. She just knows that Dairon is a perfectionist, and that she always has _exactly_ what she needs planned out _exactly_ in advance, and that her handwraps are always done so neatly and so perfectly that even Caleb ‘memorised math textbook’ Widogast would lose his shit over them. It’s kind of obnoxious.

Beau reaches for her own handwraps and, without looking at them, carefully makes them just a little bit scruffier. _Hah_. That’ll teach Dairon to go around being so perfect and annoyingly _right_.

“It’s a shame you didn’t manage to get her number, though,” Dairon continues, apparently oblivious to how she’s starting to gently stamp on Beau’s poor, poor heart. “But I don’t think that will matter for very long.”

Beau looks up at her. That sounds… suspicious. “…Why not?” she asks.

“Because” Dairon says, her tone as bland as fat-free yogurt, “I think she’s coming over here right now.”

“ _What_?” Beau exclaims, but it comes out more as a squeak. She jolts up from the bench, staring over towards where Jester had been working out, and sure enough she sees the form of a little blue tiefling wearing more fluorescent colours than a disco party on LSD approaching her, waving something in one hand.

“Beau!” Jester calls. As she approaches she lifts the item in her hand, bringing it into Beau’s line of sight, and Beau quickly recognises the familiar shape and colour of her Cobalt Soul water bottle. “You left your bottle at the fountain!”

 _Aw, shit_. Shit, fuck, goddamn it, she only fucking did, and now Jester probably thinks that she’s an _idiot_. What kind of goddamn moron leaves their water bottle at the water fountain because they got too distracted by a cute girl?

Beau does, apparently. Jester holds the bottle out to her, still smiling, and Beau reaches out for it, already accepting her shattered heart because there’s absolutely no way that Jester is going to want to talk to her after _that_ disaster.

Their fingers brush as Jester passes Beau her bottle. Even with the lonely tragedy that is now her future, it’s still somehow the single hottest thing that she has ever experienced.

“I- th-thanks,” she manages to stammer out.

“Of course! Also,” Jester continues, as chipper and bright as if she’d been hooked up to an IV of caffeinated sugar before stepping foot in the gym, “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to get coffee with me later? I know this super nice little place nearby, it’s really cute, and I think you’re really cute, so if you’re, you know, into girls, and specifically into _me_ , then how about we go on a date? Because I think you’re really attractive! And I’d really like to get to know you better!”

In that moment, Beau abruptly understand how it must feel to computers when they suddenly crash, because she’s pretty certain that the only thought left in her head after the knowledge that _Jester thinks she’s cute_ could best be represented by ‘----------‘.

“Uh,” Beau says. She can’t- shit, fuck, she can’t fucking _think_. Words, she needs to say _words_ , actual, real words, and they need to make sense. “I- yup.”

 _Fuckin’ incredible_.

She coughs, looking away from Jester’s bright, smiling, _ridiculously, impossibly attractive_ face in the hope that moving her gaze might somehow hide the flush that’s covering her entire face. “I, uh, y-yeah, I’d- sure, yeah, I’d like that, that would be- that would be super cool” She glances back at Jester. Over Jester’s shoulder, Dairon gives Beau an encouraging smile. Bolstered, Beau continues. “Because I- yeah, I definitely like girls, girls are- girls are really- they’re- y’know?”

Wonderfully, _wonderfully_ , Jester only smiles wider at her stumbling. “I do know,” she agrees. “I understand, Beau.”

“And they’re- you- I-” _Use your words_ , Dairon mouths. “You’re really cute, too,” Beau finishes all in a rush, and Jester giggles, a blush touching her cheeks and staining them purple. Beau so, so badly wants to make Jester blush again. She wants to make Jester laugh again. She wants to kiss Jester, like, _right now_ , and she wants to hold her hand, and be all disgusting and mushy and sappy, and then she wants Jester to _push her up against a wall and_ -

…and do something that Beau will absolutely _not_ think about right now, not when Dairon is still watching her.

Jester giggles again. “I’m glad you think I’m cute,” she says, “because it would really, _really_ suck if you didn’t.”

“Oh?”

“Well, _yeah_. Because, like, I’ve thought you were really hot _literally_ since I first saw you so it would be really shitty if it was one-sided, you know?”

“Nyup,” Beau says, around vocal chords that have suddenly decided to stop working. “I- uh-huh. Me, uh, me too. With the whole thinking you’re- you’re hot. Which you are. Super hot.” She pauses, and then some previously undiscovered, _functioning_ part of her brain takes over, and says, “when did you want to get coffee?”

“Welllll,” Jester says, drawing out the word, “I’m nearly done with my sets, so I was thinking maybe when you were done with your training? I don’t mind waiting.”

Beau feels her stomach sink. Dairon likes to train for hours on end, which is normally really good because _hell yeah_ , hours of sparring, but right now it’s just shit. “Well,” she says, “well, actually, we-”

“We were just finishing up,” Dairon interrupts smoothly. “Beauregard will be able to join you immediately, once she’s packed up her equipment.”

“Oh, great!” Jester says. “I need to go shower, but I could meet you outside the gym?”

Beau blinks, still reeling at Dairon turning the tables on her, and forces herself to reply. “Uh-huh. I- sure, that sounds great.”

“Sweet!” Jester grins, bouncing in place like a little blue slinky if a slinky had a tail and horns. “I’ll meet you there, Beau! This is exciting!”

“It is,” Beau agrees.

“Don’t take too long!”

“I- I won’t.”

Jester bounces again, making a sound of pure, distilled excitement, and then she turns and, skipping once again, returns to her half-orc friend.

Beau watches her go and only turns to stare at Dairon when Jester is at least partially hidden by the machines.

“ _Dude_ ,” she says. “ _What the fuck_?”

Dairon shrugs, crossing her arms. “If I forced you to stay here you would just be annoyed and grouchy, and you are the absolute worst person to interact with when you are grouchy. It seemed like a sensible choice to let you go early. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Never,” Beau promises immediately. “I- Dairon, my dude, I love you. I’m going to- I’m- whatever you like, I’m gonna get for you. I’ll get you like, fancy kale or something, okay? I owe you _big time_ for this, I-”

“ _Beauregard_ ,” Dairon interrupts. Beau falls silent. “I do not need repayment for this. I can let you take a break once in a while. And besides, Jester seems nice. She may even be good for you.”

“You think?”

“I’m debating it. But either way, what matters is that you have a date to go on.”

Beau blinks. “I have a _date to go on_ ,” she echoes. “I- holy shit, Dairon! I’m going on a fucking _date_! With _Jester_!”

“Yes,” Dairon says. “Yes, you are. Don’t leave her waiting.”

“A _date_ -”

A foot slams into her calf. For Dairon, the kick is actually surprisingly gentle.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dairon says emphatically, “a _date_. So stop messing around, and gather up your things, and _go_.”

Beau grins. _Holy fuck_. She has a date. She has an actual, legitimate, _real_ date, and it’s with _Jester_ , who thinks that she’s cute and can also benchpress her entire body weight, and Jester thinks that she’s so cool and badass that she _actually asked Beau out_ , even after Beau made a complete fucking fool of herself, and Beau just needs to remember to check the WikiHow article for ‘How to be totally cool when on a date with a really hot girl’ when getting changed, and everything is going to be _great_.

This is going to be great.

 _Holy fuck_.

She catches Dairon’s gaze and, in a motion that surprises even herself, steps forwards and wraps her up in a hug. “ _Thank you_ ,” she says, giving a quick squeeze. “Seriously, dude.” She drops her arms, grinning so widely it almost fucking _hurts_ , and then she grabs her bag, picks her up water bottle, and damn near fucking _sprints_ towards the showers.

\---

Three weeks, many dates, and a number of _very_ enjoyable activities later, Beau buys Dairon a fortune cookie to say ‘thank you’.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote this as a little fun ficlet to fill the void left by finishing writing [Twine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826527/chapters/39498232). Thanks to my ever-wonderful beta [Eileen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena), and to the BeauJester Discord for your motivation and encouragement!
> 
> Comments are always welcome ^-^


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